


send your lightning

by GlassRose



Series: old guard history [2]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Homophobia, M/M, brief sexual stuff but not much, but nicolo's reckoning with religion vs feelings vs what the hell is happening to us, i don't know how accurate it is haha, i'd say period typical but hey!, still in 1099
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:20:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25492246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassRose/pseuds/GlassRose
Summary: "Tell me, why did you come? Why did you join these invaders? To kill? You don't seem so…" Yusuf considered his next words. "Empty inside," he finished."I was called. By God. I was a priest, but I knew I could do more with a sword than with words and blessings. I came to protect pilgrims. That's why I'm here.""Are you?"Nicolo glared and crossed his arms."A priest. What sin are you repenting that you had to devote your whole life to God?""What?" Nicolo snapped, suddenly hating Yusuf very much."What is so dark and terrible," Yusuf said, leaning close--much too close--to Nico, "that you had to run so far?"
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: old guard history [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859689
Comments: 77
Kudos: 838





	send your lightning

**Author's Note:**

> did some editing to fix timelines/language stuff because i wrote a little prequel, which is published!

Eight days had passed since they'd first seen each other on the battlefield and put their blades through each other. They'd given up trying to kill each other a week ago and were afraid to separate, lest they lose the only other person as lost as he was. Having been forced to escape the battlefield alone, hiding amongst the dead as their armies left, they'd taken shelter together in a half-destroyed home. Most of the ceiling was gone, so they built a fire inside.

Nicolo was awake long into the night, his mind too busy still trying to understand what was wrong with them. When Yusuf woke in darkness, he found Nicolo cutting his arm open and watching it heal back up.

"Stop it," Yusuf said. Nicolo glanced at him briefly, and then tore the knife through his wrist and hissed in pain. Blood spurted out, congealing in the sand, but the wound healed again just as quickly. Yusuf grabbed his arm to stop him from doing it again. "If we are trapped in the same eternity," he said in his vulgar merchant Latin, "I think we will suffer enough without doing it to ourselves."

"If we are found together," Nicolo replied in mostly church Latin, not looking at him, "our own people will try to kill us. And then we will be found guilty of witchcraft." He had been trying to match Yusuf's dialect in the last week. If Nicolo could no long return to the church, it was more useful for him to know the more commonly used language.

"They might try to kill us again," Yusuf said.

"What a nightmare," Nicolo retorted, trying to reclaim his arm.

Yusuf fought him for the knife. "How many times do you think you can burn at the stake before you go mad?"

"Give it back," Nicolo snarled. He yanked at the knife, but Yusuf was strong, and his fingers slipped.

The knife plunged into Yusuf's chest.

"Shit!" Nico cried. "Why did you do that?"

Yusuf just stared at him, blood dripping from his lips as he choked. Nicolo yanked the knife out, but the healing was too slow to kick in, and he could only watch as Yusuf drowned in his own blood.

That was new, and grotesque, and easily the worst way either of them had died so far. "I'm sorry," Nicolo whispered, pressing down uselessly on the wound. When Yusuf jerked back to life, he flailed and grabbed at Nico, seizing the fabric of his tunic and shivering.

Dying was horrific, and Nicolo hadn't yet decided if it was worse or better to die knowing you couldn't stay dead. Blood already covered both of them, so he hesitated only a moment before putting his arms around his cursed enemy and only friend until he calmed down.

"What do we do?" Nicolo murmured later as they nibbled the last of their field rations.

"Hmm," Yusuf contemplated the question, and then turned his head, quirking a smile. "Take a bath?"

Nico laughed, just a little. "And after that?"

"I think," Yusuf said slowly, swallowing, "I think we need to get away from everyone who might know us."

"I don't think I can do that," Nicolo said, gritting his teeth. "I have brothers, friends, I have… Our holy mission." He couldn't look at Yusuf as he said it. It seemed so hollow now that he'd spent all these days with an infidel. But maybe this was his test. Yusuf could smile, offer him food, clean the blood off his face, and he was still an enemy, still God's enemy.

It was much harder to believe that when he had to watch the man suffer and die and come back in agony. They hurt, bled, cried, cared like Christians. And maybe that was still the test, but Nicolo was not certain he was prepared to bet on that anymore.

Maybe.

"Your holy mission. The one that told you to come kill us for our land."

"It's holy land."

"For all of us. Tell me, why did you come? Why did you join these invaders? To kill? You don't seem so…" Yusuf considered his next words. "Empty inside," he finished.

"I was called. By God. I was a priest, but I knew I could do more with a sword than with words and blessings. I came to protect pilgrims. That's why I'm here."

"Are you?"

Nicolo glared and crossed his arms.

"A priest. What sin are you repenting that you had to devote your whole life to God?"

"What?" Nicolo snapped, suddenly hating Yusuf very much.

"What is so dark and terrible," Yusuf said, leaning close--much too close--to Nico, "that you had to run so far?"

Nicolo had the knife against his throat before he even realized what he was doing. Yusuf's dark eyes were wide with fear, and Nico shoved him away. He didn't know anything. He was trying to mess with Nico's head. That's what those people did. Get past righteous men's defenses and make them betray all allegiances, make them sin against God. That's why they had to be stopped. "Leave me alone," he said, but there wasn't nearly as much force behind it as he intended.

The dream again. The two women. He tried to understand it, but it slipped away. The sun woke Nicolo as it peeked over the desert horizon. No, not the sun. The pounding of dozens of hooves. "Shit," he muttered, peering around the half-destroyed wall to see his own brothers, soldiers of Christ. The fire was still smoking, but he held his breath and waited for them to pass, even as they slowed to a walk.

And then Yusuf sneezed spectacularly.

Well, shit.

Someone dismounted and entered the house swordpoint-first.

"Azzo," Nico said, trying to keep his voice even.

"Nicolo?" Azzo said, shocked. "You were dead. We had heard everyone lost was dead. You deserted?"

"No, I--" Nico touched his side. "I was wounded."

Azzo frowned. "And you--who is this? A Saracen?"

"We were both wounded. We kept each other alive."

"You saved a Saracen."

"He saved me," Nico countered. "We were wounded. We wanted to live." He didn't have a better story. They were going to have to start coming up with reasons they were still alive in the future. "And now I live to fight another day. For God." He didn't have to turn his head to know Yusuf was watching him intently.

"Can you ride?"

"Yes," Nicolo said and instantly regretted it. If he had lied, they might have left them both behind. "Well…" He sighed. The damage was done. "Yes."

"Good. We have a horse for you. Kill the Saracen and come with us."

"That's murder, not battle," Nico countered quickly. "Thou shalt not."

"Then bind him and take him as a prisoner."

"I…" He thought fast. He wasn't prepared to kill all his brothers, and he was afraid to be separated from Yusuf. What if they couldn't find each other again? "Of course."

"Fuck you," Yusuf said in Arabic, but he threw his scimitar at Nico's feet. "After we nursed each other back to health, you do this."

"You're my enemy," Nicolo replied, feeling sick to his stomach.

There was only one free horse, so both men ended up on it, Yusuf's hands bound as he sat in front.

"Cut me loose," Yusuf muttered. "We can linger at the back and run for it."

"No." They didn't have supplies, they were in a desert region, they didn't have a boat waiting on the coast, and they didn't have a plan. "I can't do that." Their horse would tire and slow faster than anyone else's with two of them riding.

"Nicolo, are you still with me? What I said to you, before…"

"Don't say it again."

"We need to figure this out together--"

"Stop talking. I am trying to think."

"If they try to kill me--"

"Quiet!" Nicolo snapped.

Yusuf was silent until they reached the army camp, and then he murmured, "I am deciding to trust you."

Nicolo wasn't sure how best to reply, so he didn't. Azzo and Salvi tied Yusuf to a stake under a tent with an open front, and Nico watered his horse, using the time to study which ones were the freshest, hardiest mounts.

He wasn't stupid. He couldn't stay with his people and he couldn't let them find out about him and Yusuf's strange curse or blessing or whatever it was. He wasn't stupid, but the thought of leaving it all behind made him feel sick, like he was abandoning God to run off with His enemy. Though if Yusuf was God's enemy, then God was very finicky and demanding indeed.

Oh well. It wasn't the first time he'd held blasphemy in his heart.

Azzo dragged him to the commander for an accounting of the lost week after the battle they'd won, the one he'd supposedly died fighting. Apparently, while they'd taken Jerusalem, they were keeping camps outside the walls to patrol for bands of Saracens that might fight back. He kept his answers as true as possible without betraying their secret, sticking to the story that they'd been wounded and offering a suggestion that God wanted them to live, and that infidels could be saved.

The commander grudgingly accepted this but ordered him to keep his distance from the prisoner, as he was more susceptible to "their" manipulations after spending all that time together. Nico agreed just to escape the interrogation. He ate breakfast, drank quite a lot of water, relieved himself, and acquired some fresh clothes and armor. Salvi passed him on the way back from the latrine, and he asked if Yusuf had been given food or water.

"Azzo said not to, that we'd be able to question him more easily."

"Ah." Nico weighed the benefits and disadvantages of getting some food and drink to Yusuf against lying low until night fell, and thus not raising more suspicion. But it was hardly a question in the end, so he talked Salvi into taking Yusuf water, at least.

Nicolo used the day to memorize where food was stored, which paths through the camp drew the least notice, where waterskins and totes could be lifted easily, and which horses were quiet but strong. He hid the scimitar under a pile of food he knew wouldn't be used today so he could retrieve it quickly. Late afternoon, however, ruined his chances to keep suspicion off of him, because Azzo decided to interrogate the prisoner. Violently. He had to step in.

"This is not the way," Nico said firmly, putting his body between Azzo's and Yusuf's as Yusuf spat blood into the sand.

"Move, Nicolo. He is the enemy, and he will give us tactical information. This is our holy mission!"

"This is not a battlefield!" Nico retorted. "God is not honored by attacking a bound man. If our mission--Our mission _is_ holy, and we must honor that holiness by righteous action. We must not use the holiness of our mission to justify dishonorable action. We are representing God, we must lead by example."

"That's quite a speech," Azzo said, but the derision in his tone was less than Nico had expected. "I take your point; however, Nicolo, I will not be pleased if you question my decisions again."

"Azzo--"

"You always were too soft for your own good. Soft-hearted," he corrected himself with a smile that didn't feel particularly kind. "But if he keeps on with the heretic chanting..." Azzo let the implied threat hang.

"You can't stop him from saying his prayers," Nicolo argued. "What would you do if the Saracens stopped you from praying?"

Azzo stared at him and then shook his head, an expression of disgust on his face. "You should see a priest and cleanse yourself." But he walked away, and Nico was able to share a quick look with Yusuf, who nodded at him.

Salvi stood guard for the rest of the day, and after night fell, Nico lay down on a bedroll, feigning sleep for long enough that the rustling and clanking and footfalls faded away, and the camp went to bed.

He got up. It took less than fifteen minutes to pack provisions and bedrolls, retrieve the scimitar, and saddle up two quiet mares. His armor was packed away so as to avoid clinking when he sneaked into the tent where Yusuf was held. Salvi was still standing guard, but he seemingly hadn't planned on anyone approaching from the back of the tent. Nicolo cut Yusuf free as quickly as he could and gave him his sword.

Which, wait, he shouldn't have done. What if Yusuf killed his brothers while they escaped?

Too late now. Salvi turned around, but Nico had his sword at Salvi's throat before he could shout an alarm. "I can't let Azzo hurt him again," he whispered. "Just give us a head start. Please, brother. I think...I think this is why I was called here. To find another way." He wasn't sure if it was a lie or not.

Salvi stared at the swordpoint and swallowed. "Three minutes?" he suggested.

"Thank you," Nico said, and he grabbed Yusuf's arm to usher him toward the horses.

The hostler was awake, though, and said, "What do you think you're--unh." He collapsed. Nico looked to Yusuf, who shrugged, holding up the handle of his scimitar.

"He'll be fine."

"I hope so," Nico said, unhitching the mares and mounting his. "I have provisions. Let's move." He waited until Yusuf was seated, then kicked his horse.

They tried to keep quiet on their way out of camp, but after getting a short distance, someone yelled, "Horse thieves!"

"Shit," Nico grunted. "Go!" He spurred his horse into a gallop, and Yusuf matched pace.

Not fast enough. He heard a whistle and something thudded into his back. Pain bloomed in his right shoulder, then lower in his spine. He cried out but managed to yell, "Don't slow!" and kicked the mare again.

"Nicolo!" Yusuf cried out.

"Go! I'm all right!" Nicolo bent low over the mare's neck and urged her on, gritting his teeth against the pain. It was no worse than the ten-odd times he'd been gutted by Yusuf and clawed his way back to life.

The arrows bought his pursuer enough time, though, to catch up. "Traitor," Azzo snarled, and Nicolo tried to draw his sword, but his arm was taut, clenching the reins, refusing to respond to any attempts to move it. He couldn't move his head but he could hear the hoofbeats of Yusuf's horse wheeling around.

"No, don't," he gasped as he saw the shimmer of Yusuf's blade arc toward Azzo--and miss. Azzo's horse reared, whinnying, and the saddle fell off, Azzo and all. A tiny bit of blood oozed from her side as she galloped off, leaving Azzo sprawled in the sand. He'd sliced through the saddle strap.

They rode away. "Where the fuck are we going?" Nico groaned as his spine pushed the lower arrow out. The higher one had gone all the way through his shoulder and was stuck as his body tried to heal around the shaft.

"We hide in the hills, and then we plan. Can you ride?"

"I'll live," Nicolo said, because their gods were laughing at them both. Their God, maybe. Yusuf didn't seem to understand why Nico thought his God and Yusuf's were different.

They made it into the hills and wound through animal paths for a while before Yusuf stopped them. "We need to get that arrow out of you, and the horses need a rest."

The pain was making him feel quite sick, so Nicolo didn't object as Yusuf helped him down. He tied the horses to a tree and knelt down. "Where's your knife?"

"Here," Nicolo said, trying to point. His arm jerked and tingled.

Yusuf took the knife from his belt, fingers brushing the linen on his thigh, and eased Nicolo into leaning forward. With the knife, he dug a notch in the arrow shaft so he could snap it more easily. "It's healed around it. Shit."

"Just...do it." Nico gathered as much fabric on his sleeve as he could and bit down on it.

Yusuf squeezed his shoulder very gently, which made the tingling worse, grabbed onto the point, and yanked it out as quickly as he could.

He screamed, grateful that the linen muffled him. The pain was _blinding,_ worse than being shot in the first place. He tasted bile, dropped his arm, and threw up. "Oh, I do not want to experience more of this," he said miserably, spitting the last of the vile sour bits of dates.

"Not as good the second time?" Yusuf asked.

"I know I deserve that, but it will happen to you too."

"I'm certain," Yusuf agreed, holding water to his lips. Nicolo drank it gratefully as Yusuf rubbed the tingles out of his arm and checked the wound, which was quickly repairing itself.

"Why didn't you kill him?"

"You didn't want me to," Yusuf said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"He would have killed you, and most likely me. And after what he did to you?"

"You said not to." Yusuf massaged Nico's hand. "Besides, I didn't have to. How does this feel?"

Nicolo couldn't breathe. He didn't ask people for things, he didn't expect his feelings to matter that much in serious matters, and here was his supposed enemy, a man he'd let be beaten by his brothers, endangering his own life--or freedom, anyway--and avoiding killing the man who'd hurt him, because Nicolo had asked. "Oh," he said, the acid in his throat burning almost as much as his eyes. "It's…I...it's fine." He should apologize for today. He needed to, but he couldn't speak without his voice breaking.

"We should get going," Yusuf said, his hands still clasping Nico's.

He missed his mother.

He nodded tightly, swallowed several times, and said, "Where?"

"East? South? North? Maybe North."

"North? France?"

"Britain?"

"Oh, _north_ north. I don't speak the language."

Yusuf's fingers stroked Nico's hand. "We can learn it."

Nicolo should have made him stop, but he didn't. His world was fucked up and Yusuf was the only anchor he had. The anchor that would drag him down into the depths. Maybe he could live with that. It wasn't as if he had a choice about living now, anyway. "Yes. Yes, we can go that direction and then...and then maybe we won't have to go that far."

"Yes," Yusuf agreed. He took a last look at Nicolo's shoulder. "All healed. Let's get a move on before someone finds us." He stood and pulled Nico to his feet.

They did make it to the Isles eventually. Months later. It was cold and wet and Nicolo missed Genoa very much. He even missed the Holy Land. One particularly frigid snowy night saw them sheltering in a barn, as they didn't have the money to pay for a room in the tavern. "Do you think we can freeze to death?" Yusuf asked, his teeth chattering as he wrapped all of his clothes around himself and tried to burrow into the straw.

"M-maybe if we're lucky, we won't wake unt-til s-spring," Nico countered, trying and failing to coax the sheep to cuddle with him.

"I think spring here is cold and wet too."

Nico sighed. "And the sheep do not want my friendship."

"This is not working," Yusuf declared. He got up and stole Nico's bedroll, placing it against his own. "I will not be able to sleep."

It was worse to freeze to death, probably, than to confront his weaknesses for a few hours. He grudgingly sat down on the bedroll. Yusuf took all their extra clothes, bedding, and anything else soft and warm and draped it over Nico, then piled straw on top, and crawled inside, pressing shoulder to shoulder.

Nico wasn't certain, but it probably wasn't that much later that Yusuf rolled onto his side and crowded closer, and Nico did the same, letting their bodies fit together, curled up, for warmth.

He dreamed of the women again, one from the East, and the other, perhaps Greek? He couldn't say. Why were they in his mind? Who were they? Had he killed them on the battlefield and not known?

There were three things Nicolo noticed upon waking. First, it was still freezing outside, though Yusuf's body heat helped a lot. Second, the soft, warm puffs of breath on the back of his neck felt like sin and he never wanted it to end. Third, and worst of all, Yusuf was probably having a nice dream about someone else, because he could feel the evidence of it pressed right against a part of him that was very disconcerting indeed.

To his dismay, but not surprise, it was affecting him too. Then Yusuf grunted in his sleep and stretched, causing his erection to press and drag against the cleft of Nico's behind.

And now it was affecting him quite a lot. He bit his lip, hating himself for wanting this, for wanting more, not just for wanting a man but for wanting to be taken in this way, but it felt _good_ to his body, even if his spirit objected. Or God objected. Or the Pope did, or someone, somewhere, who wrote things down sometime objected.

Who even knew anymore. His weak body wanted Yusuf to touch him inside and out and it was his job not to give in.

And yet, he didn't move. He closed his eyes and waited for Yusuf to wake on his own. Which he did, but not before grinding against Nico's backside for what felt like an unnecessarily long time.

"Oh no," he said.

Nico wanted to say something to cut the tension, but he was so hungry for touch he couldn't trust his own voice.

Yusuf sat up and scooted away. "Nicolo, I...I was dreaming. I didn't mean to...I was asleep."

And probably not dreaming about Nicolo.

"Was…" Nicolo swallowed and tried to sound relaxed, still lying on his side. "Was she pretty?"

Yusuf let out a very uneasy laugh. "I don't, ah. I don't dream about…"

Nico counted thirty seconds before he finished the sentence.

"Women," Yusuf finally said. "But I--we were cold, I never meant--I'm sorry."

God was a jerk. God was a bastard. God was a petty trickster. Tying Nico to Yusuf, holding him out like a gift and then warning him never to touch, and not just for a normal lifespan, but, he was starting to worry, forever.

He wouldn't be able to do it.

"Nicolo?" Yusuf's voice shook. The normally easy, friendly tone was replaced with fear and sadness.

"I'm thinking," he said.

"Please, forgive me."

"No." Nico winced at his own words. "I mean…" He sighed and sat up. "I don't--there is nothing to forgive, I...but, I c--" He took a deep breath, but the tears he'd been holding back flowed. Slowly, lightly, a silent, single stream down his cheek. "I can't." It wasn't a lie so much as a plea, a desperate attempt to order himself to stay righteous, to be the priest he'd committed himself to be all those years ago, to be someone else, to forget the temptations he'd fought for so long, to obey God, to be good, to stay good.

A very hopeless plea, though, because if Yusuf saw through it, if he reached out, if he gave Nico a smile, if he just asked if Nico was sure, then Nico would give in. He was too weak.

That was all assuming Yusuf even wanted him. All he'd really said was that he preferred men.

But if he did, sooner or later it was bound to happen. They were bound to each other and trapped in this world, in these bodies, for who knew how long. And if he was going to sin anyway, why waste time? His stomach churned thinking about it. He wanted to be back in Yusuf's arms, falling asleep, pretending it was only necessity that drew him there, justifying his own lies to himself.

Yusuf touched his cheek. Wiped away the tear with his thumb. Nico's heart nearly beat out of his chest. _Kiss me, please kiss me,_ he thought desperately. He couldn't bridge the gap himself.

"Do you want to go warm up and get breakfast?" Yusuf asked quietly, his eyes soft.

 _I want you to put your arms around me and make me forget why I don't want this_. "Yes, I--" Nico blinked the tears off his lashes and sniffled. "I would like to sit by the fire."

Yusuf lowered his hand to Nico's shoulder. "I'll pack up, you go on in. You're freezing." He brushed some straw away and stepped back.

Nico pushed the heels of his hands against his eyes to clear away the tears. "Right." He rose, turned around, and patted the straw off his clothes as he walked toward the barn door. He paused. What if... He turned around. "I want to stay together."

Yusuf looked up and gave him a kind but pained smile. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll join you in a moment."

Reassured, Nico nodded at him and made his way to the tavern. He put some coins on the counter and sat on the hearth while the tavernkeeper put some bread and hot meal in bowls for him. "Thought you two might freeze last night," she said. He was picking up a bit of the language by now.

"The sheep kept us company."

"Ah." She glanced at the door. "You know, I could use a man around here." What? Was she suggesting…. "Since my husband died two winters back--I don't know if I can find a space for your Moor companion, but--"

"I'm a priest," he said quickly. It was the easiest excuse. Even if he wanted to marry her, it would be cruel to draw her into the absolute mess that was his spiritual war against his own desires.

"You--what?"

"I'm on a pilgrimage."

"With a…?" She pointed toward the barn.

"I...I want to understand them." Nicolo took the tray of food. "I'm a priest. I can't marry you."

"At least I tried. I like your eyes. They are quite…" She finished the sentence with a word he didn't recognize, so he just nodded, tried to give her a smile, and set the tray on a table by the fire. He wanted to wait for Yusuf, but considered that he might be too nauseated to eat once Yusuf came inside and started nibbling at the bread.

He made it halfway through the hard chunk of grainy bread before Yusuf joined him.

"How is the fare?" he asked in Arabic. Nicolo was getting better at understanding and speaking it after a few months with Yusuf.

"The same. The innkeeper asked to marry me."

"You can't," Yusuf said, a little too quickly.

"I told her I was a priest." Nico blinked. "Did you think I was going to say yes?"

"No, I…" Yusuf looked down and took his bowl. "Nothing."

"She liked my eyes," Nico added, for want of something to say.

"I like your eyes," Yusuf grumbled, and then he put his hands over his face.

There was an easy way to fix everything, but Nico was not capable of doing it. He could give in to temptation and damn himself or decide it was man's law and not God's that he was really breaking, and he already knew he would. He could not, however, make the first move. "She did say she wanted a man around here," he said.

"So?"

"So, maybe we can do some work for her and sleep inside tonight or get some coin in our purse."

The tavernkeeper came over and stoked the fire, throwing a log on top. "What kind of priest carries around a sword?"

"The Genovese," Yusuf said. "You know how they are down south." He waved his hand by the side of his head to indicate madness.

"Hmm." She looked skeptical but accepted the answer. She offered to let them sleep by the hearth tonight and send a bit of coin their way in exchange for some work in the barn and helping her replace a support beam that she'd meant to get up in autumn. That night, however, there was an empty room behind the chimney, so she offered it to them.

Yusuf took the opportunity to wash his clothes and hung them up against the warm stone chimney back. "Yours next. You smell like goat."

It felt like an obvious ploy, but Yusuf was right. They hadn't washed their clothes in weeks. And if it was a ploy, hopefully it would work and end Nico's suffering. Yusuf started with the packed clothes while Nico stripped down. "I can wash my own clothes."

"I'll do it, you wash yourself. Goat man." Yusuf was completely bare now and shivering a little.

"You smell like horse," Nico retorted, but he nabbed the chunk of soap and used the hot kettle water to clean himself. Yusuf finished the clothes and Nico helped him hang them against the chimney.

"Get under the blankets before you freeze," Yusuf said, shooing him. "I need to wash the horse smell off." He winked, and Nico crawled into bed, his face heating up. He'd seen Yusuf naked before, but it was different now. Water trickling down his chest and getting caught in the dark hair. The warrior's muscle packed under his brown skin. The way his shoulder blades moved as he stretched and scrubbed.

Nico should not be looking. He rolled onto his other side and covered his face. Yusuf joined him a few minutes later and kept to his own side. They didn't have a single scrap of clothing separating them.

This was bad.

"Nicolo?" Yusuf asked before he blew the candle out. "I could sleep on the floor."

 _No, absolutely not, do not even think it._ "Too cold."

"If I sleep by the chimney--"

"There are pests about." _I want you here_ was too much to say.

The bed shook as Yusuf propped himself up and put a hand on Nico's arm. "Nicolo."

He rolled onto his back. If the moment was now, he had to see it through.

"I would do anything for you." Yusuf's face was only half lit in the flickering candlelight, but his gaze was soft and anxious.

"Help me," Nico breathed, barely able to trust his own voice. His breath stuttered as Yusuf cupped his cheek and leaned in.

"Is this what you want?" he asked, so close his breath was warm on Nico's face. But he didn't move. He waited.

" _Yes_ ," Nico begged, finally able to confess, when keeping quiet would mean the pain of Yusuf pulling away, maybe forever.

Yusuf smiled, and Nico let his eyes shut as their lips brushed, then Yusuf kissed him and he tried to meet it, tried to get it right. It was new. He'd always avoided all of this, always known since he was a young man that he only wanted men, and thus he didn't really know what he was doing. But it was easy to follow Yusuf and follow his own body's desires. And his heart's desires.

Funny, if God was striking him with lightning for this, he'd been misled indeed on what being struck with lightning might feel like, because his body tingled with pleasure and need, not pain. And they both knew pain very well. Nicolo started laughing against Yusuf's mouth. He couldn't help himself.

"What? What amuses you so much?" Yusuf demanded.

"I…" Nico laughed again. "If God struck me down, I would just get back up."

"He won't," Yusuf declared.

"I mean. For this! It always seemed so great and terrifying and I would surely be punished for it, but--but--" Nico giggled helplessly. "I can't even die, why was I still afraid?"

"Nicolo--"

"Send your lightning, God! I'm ready!" Nico said too loudly, tears of hysteria leaking from his eyes.

"Sh-sh-shh!" Yusuf hissed, now chuckling himself. "We're not alone."

"What are they going to do? Hang us? Throw us out?"

"Our clothes are wet."

"Oh no, we might freeze to death!"

"That would be miserable, Nico."

"You're right, you're right." Nicolo took a few deep breaths to steady himself. "I wouldn't let them hurt you."

"I know you wouldn't," Yusuf whispered, climbing on top of Nico, who was intensely aware of bits brushing against other bits and thighs and-- "Keep quiet," Yusuf breathed in his ear, which did _not_ help. The hand clamped over his mouth as Yusuf kissed and sucked at his neck was much more effective.

This was a sacrament, and Nicolo had been lied to his entire life. This was holy. This was love. This was an offering, a sacred gift. Not a sin. Never a sin.

A holy experience strengthening a bond, he decided later as their foreheads were pressed together and they tried to keep silent as the other's hand brought them off.

If there was a reason he had even been born, and surely if there was a reason he was blessed with immortality, this was it. He existed to be Yusuf's, to stay by his side. To hold him and be held by him. To share warmth in the night.

They cleaned up and wedged a piece of kindling under the door to prevent anyone from bursting in on them. It was easier and much more fun to tuck himself into Yusuf's arms tonight, skin to skin, fingers interlaced, Yusuf pressing goodnight kisses to the back of his neck.

"I love you, Nicolo," he whispered.

The words weren't quite right, but they had a lot of time to find the right ones. For now, that would do. "I love you, Yusuf."

Spring came eventually, and with it, the two women in their dreams who understood them instantly. Nicolo still missed his mother and in some ways his brothers in arms, but he had a family now who understood and accepted him as he was. He plucked speedwell from the ground and wove it into Yusuf's hair as they walked. Time stretched out before them, but they had each other, and the world was not so big anymore.


End file.
